by Joey W. Hill
“Yeah, I want you scared. In the right way. I don’t have to be fair, Ella. I just have to be your Master, also in all the right ways. You want to know how I want to fuck you, baby girl?”
A wicked grin split his features, making him look demonic. If he’d ever showed her that expression before today, she’d have known he wasn’t human.
“You should see how big your eyes are. I’d sit you down on the very edge of a wooden chair, making sure the edge was cutting into that place I’ve hurt so bad, between your thighs and ass. I like working that area over good when I’m punishing a sub, because I know how every step rubs the abraded skin in that fold, reminds you of the lesson. When it’s happening, you think it’s going to be too painful to come, but I’d prove you wrong. A full servant learns pretty fast just how much pain can be endured, while pleasure is still served its due. When they crave it all over again, when it’s done, they know just how thoroughly a vampire has claimed everything they are. So I’ve heard. I’ve never had a full servant.”
Those lightning eyes sparked. “When I finish fucking you on the chair, it will hurt so much that you’re crying, those little fingernails leaving crescent marks all over my shoulders. But your clit will also be throbbing for friction, your nipples aching for attention. Hell, every inch of your skin will be begging for my mouth. That’s when I’ll turn you over. Use the sweet honey from between your thighs to lube myself up, and take your ass. I’ll work myself down to the root, and give you the fucking of your life, girl. Every slam against your gorgeous backside will set those nerves on fire again.
“You’ll think the pain is too much. You’ll be so close to begging for mercy, wanting to give me the right answer to my question, if only it will stop me, make me stop hurting you. But that’s not what I want. I want you to feel the pain, understand the lesson it’s teaching you, so when I do hold you in my arms after, cradle my baby girl, the answers will float off your lips as easily as an expelled breath. You won’t give me the words to stop the pain. You’ll give them to me because you’ll know whatever I demand from you is what you want to give.
“That’s where we’re going, Ella. So you get busy on all the smokescreens you’re going to try to sell me on instead of the truth. The more you do, the more it will please me, because of what I have planned for your stubborn backside.”
He was pushing her past rational thought. Every word planted a startling seed of dread deep in her belly. But as he shifted around in that debris, it unearthed something else. A pale, sickly-looking plant, deprived of sunlight for a very long time. Yet it still had enough strength to lift its trembling face to the sun.
Hope.
The chasm that hope had to cross inside her reality was impossible. But she was going over it. He’d just made that clear. No safe words.
He turned her over again, even as she was protesting against the gag, still crying. This time, as if he knew her control wouldn’t hold out, he produced another of those cords, wrapped her wrists in them and then dropped the tail end to the floor, stepping on it so she couldn’t pull it free. She’d have to stay on his lap, bent over for his punishment, as long as he wished.
She didn’t understand what he wanted from her. She thought she’d given him the right answer. Then he started over again, just as he’d promised.
He repeated every bit of it, until she was screaming, then whimpering against the gag. She knew her buttocks had to be bleeding, or at least in danger of blisters. When he stopped, he put his fingers in her again, stirred around, finding her just as wet, because…she had no idea why she was still that wet. But with every strap against her backside, different words jumped into her head, until only one held.
Why? What? Can he? Oh… Please… God, I can’t… Wolf, please…Wolf. Wolf. Wolf.
When he stopped this time, she was panting. He traced very light fingertips over her backside. “Sweet darling. I’m a beast. A couple of those are going to welt up like a son of a bitch. I’ll put some salve on them this week, keep you safe and well. But first you’ll have to answer my question right, or there will be blood all over the floor this third time. Is that what you want?”
She shook her head vehemently. Saliva and phlegm had run into the terry cloth. She couldn’t tell him, couldn’t tell anyone, because she’d never told the truth of it to any Dom. Or to anyone. The words were scrambled, so far away across that chasm. Yet he’d catapulted her over to them, landing her on the unyielding stone of what her soul needed and wanted more than anything. It wasn’t a soft, nurturing place, but cold and stark, because what lived there, lived alone. It expected to always do so, isolated from the rest of her mind, the way she lived her life.
He jerked the cord free and the terry cloth fell out of her mouth as she gasped through her erratic little sobs.
“Don’t piss me off, Ella,” he said quietly. “That’s not a place you want to take me. Answer your Master honestly. Right now, no thinking, just the answer to the question.”
He snapped the first one off in his mind, firing it straight into the turmoil of hers.
What can you expect from me?
“I don’t know what I can expect from you,” she sobbed.
What do you want to expect from me?
“Everything. I want to expect everything.”
That was so awful. She should tell him she really didn’t expect every—
What do you expect of me?
“Nothing.”
It burst forth from her, a terrible, painful word. “Nothing.”
She couldn’t expect anything. Not from him, or anyone. She could value what they gave her, could keep her sanity, as long as they didn’t put false expectations on it, things she knew they couldn’t give. Sometimes she knew that before they did.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“Shut up,” he said gently. “Just be quiet.”
Everything changed. The belt dropped to the floor, and he turned her over in his arms again, this time cradling her so close, holding her, rubbing her back and hip in soothing motions as she cried.
“You answered the questions correctly,” he murmured. “Honestly, as you feel them in your heart. You don’t have to spare my feelings. That’s the good thing about me in your head. All you have to give me is honesty. Nothing more, nothing less.”
He wasn’t angry. Not even disappointed or dismayed. He held her curled up securely in his arms, one hand cupping the back of her head. He kept holding her, never easing up, not even a shift to disrupt the flow of tears, the little hiccups.
Not until she finally ran out of tears and lay in his possession, numb, quiet.
She thought of a sub she’d met at another club, one who gave a Mistress everything. Any Mistress, whether for a night or whenever she wanted to cut him loose. No selectiveness, just a hungry desire to give away his free will. He carried his apartment key around his neck, his admission that if the Domme wanted him, he’d follow her willingly as she took possession of all his belongings, managed his life for him. In return, he’d give her everything, now just a member of her household.
She didn’t want that, couldn’t want that. She could love whoever and however she wanted. But full trust was something very few people earned. Naomi had been right about that. Ella wasn’t even sure if she could live up to it herself, because in the end, people lived very much in their heads, the center of their own story.
Stop, stop, stop. This unleashed thinking was like running a needle through a piece of cloth, over and over. Over time, it just became a big ball of snarled lines, crossing, crisscrossing, no sense ever to be made of them.
Before the fire took her, her mom would read to her at bedtime, but she’d build on the story. Ella remembered a book with a picture of the earth, drawn in bright, brilliant blue and green colors.
“Do you know what the earth is, if you peel off the cover? A big, tangled ball of string. If you picked it up and threw it across the universe, that string would unravel forever, a trail of light like a burning
star’s tail…”
Wolf wiped her face with a fresh cloth, massaged the sore corners of her mouth with his strong fingertips.
“Stop thinking, Ella. Just be. Let yourself be.”
He’d only second marked her, but he knew he’d dug that word out of her soul.
Nothing.
She lay limp in his arms. Emotionally drained. He hadn’t intended to go this far with her, especially when he had to leave her before dawn. Because of his relatively young age, he pretty much had to be below ground before that first lick of sunlight turned the sky rose and gray, unless he liked feeling like a furnace.
He didn’t want to leave her, though, and considered taking her back to his place. As if she was his full servant, someone he could command to be with him 24/7, if that was his preference. Who he could feed upon first upon rising, or have in his arms as he slipped into that daylight coma state.
When he’d first been turned, he’d fought that lethargy, but Nolan had told him to think of it like a teenager, needing more sleep for the growth of his bones.
As you get older, you’ll be able to go to sleep later, sleep lighter, except at the very height of the day. For now, let nature take its course, boy. It will make you stronger. And if the lack of control keeps bothering you, pick up a full servant along the way who can keep tabs on you throughout the day.
“Can I see them?” she asked drowsily.
He’d been in his own head, not following her thoughts, so he had to catch up. “What?”
“Your fangs. I mean, I’ve felt them, when you fed, but I’d like to see them. They do some kind of lengthening thing when you use them. I figure that’s why I’ve never really noticed how sharp your canines are. And you don’t fully smile a lot. Do vampires learn to do that, keep them concealed by making sure they don’t smile too big?”
“Yeah, pretty much. Why do you want to see them?”
“Well, why wouldn’t I? It’s like seeing a tiger in a sanctuary. There’s some part of you that wants to squat down next to him and put your hand on top of his paw, because they are so enormous, and you just can’t imagine having a foot that big. It’s so different from what you are. Yet, when he studies you like you’re just as odd to him, that’s when you know there are things that make you not so different, too. It makes you curious. Want to touch, connect.”
“Even if you know it’s dangerous and probably not so smart.”
“True.” She didn’t say anything further, but he saw that she’d deduced he didn’t really want to “show” her his fangs. She’d respect that without further pressing.
Her words were slurred, her pupils large, so he knew she was drifting in subspace still. Some subs were silent in that state. Some slept. Others cried, little sniffles and sobs that went on for some time. Ella had demonstrated that here, but her tears had been because of a breakthrough. Her normal subspace state apparently was this, moving between drowsiness and streams of consciousness, charmingly innocent dialogues. It didn’t surprise him a bit. It fit her.
What did surprise him was realizing he was self-conscious about showing her his fangs. He’d never been asked the question. Pretty much everyone who knew he was a vampire was a vampire or a full servant, so the question had never come up.
He closed his hand around her wrist, lifted her hand to his jaw. Realizing he was granting her request, her face tipped up quickly to see, interest and relaxed anticipation in her sleepy gaze. Whether she realized it or not, her curiosity and relative alertness were helping him resolve his aftercare concern. She was at home, in a familiar environment. Plus, he could touch her mind with his until he fell asleep. Her being a second mark would also help her recuperation time. She’d be okay.
He still gave himself a kick for going so intense with her, with such a limited window of time. It was evidence of being off his game with her. He’d work on that. For now, he guided her fingers into a closed curl, except for her forefinger. He parted his lips, put the pad of the straightened finger on the slick top of his right canine. “Don’t move that finger,” he warned her.
She giggled—giggled, for Christ’s sake. She really was adorable, all big brown eyes and soft mouth. “You just beat the hell out of me,” she said solemnly. “And you’re worried about pricking my finger, like Sleeping Beauty.”
“Behave,” he told her, suppressing a smile. “It’s not a sub’s job to point out a Master’s contradictions.”
He consciously extended the fangs, and her eyes widened, lips parting in pleased delight as the slick enamel beneath her fingertip lengthened and broadened, until he was fully unsheathed. His fangs were almost an inch long extended, and they curved.
“Wow,” she breathed, propping herself up on his chest to peer more closely at them. “Is it okay to move my fingers now?”
At his nod, she lightly explored both of them. He was surprised to find he could feel her touch, or maybe it was just a mental transference that made the pressure feel like a caress on even more sensitive nerve endings. When she reached the sharp end, she pressed on it lightly, her expression amazed anew at how little pressure it took to break the skin. He gripped her wrist, took the finger into his mouth and sucked the blood away, winning a distracted look from her as she trembled at the gesture.
“How do you keep from cutting yourself?”
“You really don’t. Feel this?” He guided the punctured fingertip back to his lower lip and let her feel inside, the thickened area. “When you first become a made vampire, you cut this area, over and over. Either because of that, or because it’s just part of our physiology, over time it thickens, forms a buffer, so to speak, and then you stop cutting the inside of your mouth. You can still slice up your lip pretty good at times. But we heal fast.”
“That’s good. Because canker sores suck.”
“Yes, they do.” As he retracted the fangs, she craned her head, like a thoughtful turtle keeping her head low while looking upward, watching that extra length disappear.
“So, do male vampires…compare them? Size?”
He couldn’t remember the last time someone had compelled a full belly laugh out of him, but that did it. Her eyes were dancing as he held her until the chuckles subsided. “I’m not sure it’s ever come up.”
Her grin widened and he swatted her pretty ass. “Now you’re doing it on purpose. Being cute.”
“Hey, it was your phrasing, not mine. So Anwyn…are hers like that?”
“Female fangs do tend to be smaller, more dainty, but still just as wickedly sharp.”
She put her head down on his chest. “They’re very awesome. Thank you, Master.”
He made a noncommittal grunt, but stroked her back, down to her hip, curled his fingers in the ends of her long hair. “I need to leave soon.”
“I know. I’m going to try to go to sleep so I won’t know when you leave. You’ll just be in my dreams with me.”
He didn’t say anything to that, just kept stroking her as her breathing evened out, as she slipped into dreams as easily as an innocent child in truth. Yet she had one hand on his biceps, clasping them firmly enough to convey her desire for him to stay. When he reluctantly extricated himself, he curled her up in her bed. He put her covers over her bare body, bent down and put a kiss on her shoulder.
And then, because he could, he scraped a fang over that smooth, soft skin, pulling back enough to see the faint scratch he’d left, the tiny pinpoints of blood along the length. He touched his tongue to them, sweet, tart tastes of her. He thought of her words, her desire to take him into her dreams.
“I will be, little girl. Beautiful woman. I promise.”
Ella knew a lot about serving Masters and Mistresses, and she took pride in doing it to the best of her ability. Sometimes that required homework. Though she had a busy schedule over the next couple days, she made time for one particular assignment.
When she arrived at Club Atlantis at midday, construction was in full swing. There was a small army of work trucks, a din of hammering and raise
d voices from the workers. Dust was billowing out from their efforts. Yellow hardhats moved purposefully to and fro, a dumpster loaded up with debris. They’d already cleared the alley and had scaffolding up to rebuild the wall.
It gave Ella a fist-pumping surge of “yeah” to see Anwyn mobilizing repair efforts so quickly. The Mistress’s big “fuck you” to anyone who tried to take Atlantis down.
All Doms were control freaks, more or less. Anwyn wouldn’t leave the construction staff unsupervised during her daylight sleep hours. So just as Ella had expected, she found Gideon keeping an eye on the work in process. He sat on the edge of the loading dock of the vending machine warehouse which shared the other side of the alley with them. Fortunately, they’d sustained only cosmetic damage, but Anwyn had already told Gary they’d fix it as part of her own repairs, a good neighbor gesture. The man had always had a really good relationship with Club Atlantis and Anwyn. She’d won his heart early on, overcoming his trepidations about having a “sex club” setting up next to his business.
Gideon’s thick tread shoes dangled off the dock edge. He was drinking a Coke and eating a moon pie. There was a crate of similar snacks below his feet, along with a giant cooler of drinks.
As she approached, the question in her face, he nodded down to them. “Help yourself. Gary sent over a couple cases of moon pies and other snacks for the workers. Take a handful.”
Ella selected a Diet Pepsi and a pack of trail mix that had cashews, walnuts, raisins and semi-sweet chocolate chips, and put them on the dock next to him. Obligingly, he leaned down, gripping her beneath the arms, and lifted her up next to him. Gideon was a very strong man, she knew that, but with her new perception on things, she realized he did it even more easily than a “normal” strong man would.
“So what’s up?” he asked, giving her a shrewd look out of his midnight blue eyes.
“I’ve been picking up on some things,” she said carefully. “Um…Anwyn. She’s like Wolf, isn’t she? And you’re…her full servant.”
